Page 91 of The Executioners Three
Well, clearly thehein question was the serial killer, and presumably this meant Mrs. Ferris had been trying to track him. The question waswhy,and what did it have to do with her children and the bell?
The next copy of the poem, handwritten on faded notebook paper, was dated 1987. Another date had been scrawled beside the Hangsman’s verse: October 16. That, of course, matched with the newspaper articles Freddie had found in her dad’s box and at Fortin Prep.
On the back, there was another note:The fog and crows rise again, but no one is here.Rita is traveling, and Teddy and Justine live in Chicago now.
Then, added in thick red marker below that was:I am so sorry, Frank.
Freddie swallowed, her throat suddenly shut tight. She’d already known that her dad had gone looking for answers about this. She couldn’t let a fresh monsoon get the better of her simply because that was her dad’s name right there.
Tamp it down. Focus on the task at hand.
Freddie forced her gaze back up to the other notes. Rita was obviously Sheriff Bowman. And Teddy must be Theo’s dad, who’d moved to Chicago. Justine, therefore, must be Theo’s mom.
For some reason, Freddie’s gut gave a hardclenchat that thought.As if to say:This name is important. Don’t forget Justine.
Hadn’t one of the Executioners been namedJustin? Could Theo’s mother be descended from the Charretière line? That would make him adoubledescendant…
Freddie turned to the final copy of the poem, on an even rattier piece oflined paper, dated 1975. It was the same handwriting as before, but swoopier, as if Mrs. Ferris—assuming that was who had kept these notes—had been younger. More dates filled the margin, and beside the Headsman’s stanza, it also read:Poor Edgar. Teddy blames himself. He tells me he hears a bell and can’t resist it. I have found him sleepwalking twice now in the forest with no memory of how he got there.
Freddie bit her lip. There was so much to take in right here.
Poor Edgarhad to refer to Edgar Fabre—although why? What had happened to him in 1975 that Teddy would blame himself for? Edgar would have been pretty old by then, and hadn’t he been run out of town?
As for the bell that Teddy claimed he’d heard—whichhadto be the same bell that Freddie kept hearing—what did it mean that he couldn’t resist it? Mrs. Ferris had said Sheriff Bowman was the same. Plus, he’d been found sleepwalking just like Laina had.
So maybe someone was hypnotizing them all. Hypnosis had triggers, right? So the bell could be the mechanism that controlled them to… do what?
Freddie would have to research that hypnosis tomorrow at the library. And she could do a cursory search tonight with Ask Jeeves once she got home.
She rubbed at her eyes. This was a lot to take in. A lot of lines drawn on a murder board that currently existed only inside her brain. She needed to sit down and try to map it all out in an organized fashion.
After returning the three poems to their box, Freddie finally turned her attention to the last box. The one without a label, lurking in the shadows. While the others were all brown filing boxes, this one was white. Newer. Cleaner.
Later, Freddie wouldswearshe’d known what she was going to find before she’d even pulled off the lid. She wouldswearher gut had already sensed the box’s contents, her mind had already decided.
She pulled off the top, and there it was: a red water bottle withWed. run, lap 2on the side.
Beside it was a roll of 35mm film.
And under it was a sheaf of stolen newspapers.
“Aha,” Freddie whispered shakily, “eureka, and gesundheit.” Here was all of her serial killer evidence. Just staring up at her in a secret attic roomthat no one was supposed to know about except for Mrs. Ferris. A woman who was supposedly attacked by a wild animal. A woman who was afraid of her own daughter and could only turn to Freddie for help.
Heart thundering, Freddie wrapped her right hand in her sleeve and withdrew the topmost newspaper. In huge letters, it declared, “Headless Body Found in City-on-the-Berme.” Below was a picture of two young men, arm in arm and grinning before Elmore High School.Teddy Porter,the caption said,who found the body of his friend, Edgar Fabre Jr.
Freddie’s lungs deflated. Air whistled through her teeth. Because holy moly, this was a clue. It wasn’t Edgar FabreSeniorthat her dad had believed was still alive—it was the son.Juniorwas the one who maybe hadn’t died.
Except, how could one even fake a decapitated body? And for what purpose? Sure, Freddie could see why he might have had a motive to kill if he’d wanted to prove his dad’s book was real. And if he’d wanted to show everyone in Berm that Original Fabre hadn’t just been a disgruntled blacksmith with outstanding money owed.
But the amount of work that would have to go into a scheme like this—from faking his own death to multiple killings over twenty-four years…
Freddie’s face folded into one of Divya’ssomething does not add up hereexpressions. And in a numb, hazy movement, she clicked Xena’s film advancer and pressed the viewfinder to her eye.
Snap!Light flared. The face of Teddy Porter was captured on film, the resemblance between Theo and his dad unmistakable. Then, with her fingers again wrapped in her sleeve, Freddie withdrew more newspapers. The stack included all the 1975 editions missing from the Fortin Prep collection, as well as envelopes of microfiche from the library. There were also extra copies of the same newspapers, as if the killer—Edgar Junior—had gone to neighboring libraries and relieved them of their editions too.
Freddie cranked Xena again, ready to grab a picture of the whole article cache… except Xena wouldn’t move. “Crap,” she snarled. She had taken all the pictures she could. Frantically, she patted her jeans pockets. Front, back, front again. But there was no spare film.What a rookie move, Gellar!Mulder and Scully wouldnever.
But okay, okay. This would be fine. All Freddie had to do was come back later. She knew where the key was, and surely if she came during the middle of the night, there’d be no risk of getting caught by a murderer.
